Work It Girl!

For those of you who haven't been reading the blog for very long, there's something you should know about my husband...he's OBSESSED with "working out." He doesn't "work out" like other guys do--he's not hitting the gym to lift weights or to run a few miles. No, his work out schedule is akin to that of a housewife on Beverly Hills 90210 (of course, this is in between the 4 days a week that he plays basketball, but we'll ignore that for now). Yes, Mike loves spinning. He spins up to three days a week and if he misses a class for some reason, God help us all. 

Case in point: on Monday night, I told Mike I'd meet him at the gym to take a spinning class with him. While I was driving there, he called me...

MIKE: "What's time's the class again?"

ME: "6:30"

MIKE: "Are you sure?"

ME: "Yes I'm sure....I checked on the schedule when I left the house."

MIKE: "I just want to make sure that it's the right class."

ME: "What is WRONG with you?! Of course it is! You don't trust me?!"

Ah yes...marriage...only in a marriage will you have a conversation about TRUST stemming from the time of a spinning class. 

MIKE: "I trust you. Of course I trust you. I just want to make sure."

He doesn't trust me. That's OK...I'm always right anyway.

So, I'm standing in the locker room, clicking the fasteners on my spinning shoes when my cell phone rings. It's Mike. He sounds really really stern...as if I were his teenage daughter who'd been caught cheating on a math test.

MIKE: "Guess what?"

ME: "What?"

MIKE: "There IS no 6:30 spin class."

ME: "What do you mean? I swear...I saw it on the schedule at home."

MIKE: "That's WHY I asked you to look on the computer. On the computer, they have the most recent schedule. On the computer there's..."

ME: "OK, chill out crazy town. It's a SPIN class. We didn't have surgery scheduled." 

MIKE: "That's not the point!"

ME: "OK, I'm coming out of the locker room right now and we can discuss this like rational human beings."

As I exit the locker room, I see Mike standing there wearing his BIKE SHORTS, his tight SLEEVELESS DRYFIT  WORKOUT shirt, and his SPIN SHOES. He's got his hands on his hips and he's PISSED. I start to giggle.

MIKE: "What?!"

ME: "I just...I can't argue with you when you're wearing that."

MIKE: "Wearing what?"

ME: "That! That outfit! It's more Real Housewives of the OC than Lance Armstrong. I'm just saying..."

MIKE: "Of course you're JUST saying. And meanwhile, we can't work out because there's no class."

We start walking towards the gym's spinning room. As we pass grunting middle aged pot bellied lawyers and uber collagen-ed cougars, he stikes another pose. 

MIKE: "I don't have regular tennis shoes so I can't go on the treadmill and thanks to you, there's NO WORKOUT TODAY."

ME: "You are completely crazy. You need to calm down."

Mind you, he's still standing there with his hands on his hips.

ME: "As sexy as you are in your bike shorts, I have to say, you're really annoying right now."

MIKE: "How hard is it to look on the computer?"

We walk into the dark spinning room, still bickering...

ME: "How was I supposed to know that a regular 6:30 class had been canceled?!"

We each pick a bike--bike's that are, of course, right next to each other.

MIKE: "You would have known because you would have checked ON...THE...COMPUTER."

ME: "I got that part..."

We adjust the handle bars....

MIKE: "So, next time you'll make sure..."

ME: "Oh my God you're annoying!"

MIKE: "YOU'RE annoying!"

We each get on a seat and start pedaling, facing each other in the mirror. We're the only ones in the room. It's dark. We have our GAME FACES ON.

ME: "I hate you."

We start pedaling faster...

MIKE: "I hate you more."

ME: "You know? This is sooooo typical. Anything having to do with sports, or a game, or..."

MIKE: "You're talking. That means you're not working hard enough."

I poke him under his arm where he's so tickle-ish he jerks his arm away and squeals like a little girl.

MIKE: "Stop thaaaaat!"

ME: "You're talking! You're not working hard enough!"

MIKE: "No...YOU'RE talking!"

ME: "No, YOU are!"

And then...we stop talking and begin our own utterly and completely lame spinning class-just the two of us, pedaling in unison, panting, and desperate for a teacher and some music. And just as we feel like we have a rhythm...that our fight is over...a good looking guy in bike shorts struts into the room...

GUY: "Is there a 6:30 class today?"

I look at Mike. He looks at me. 

ME: "See?! I told you!"

MIKE: "You didn't TELL me! If you'd told me we wouldn't be in this..."

ME: "Oh please! Like you've never looked at the...."

And with that, the guy pivots and heads out of the room...disappointed that there isn't a class but relieved that he isn't married. After another spat, we spin and spin in silence. That's the thing about marriage, sometimes, it's just better to shut up and ride.

I'm just saying...

Comments

[carolyn white]

I'm still laughing. But why isn't there a photo of MIke in his spinning "outfit?" Isn't he man enough for us to see him? He sounds like the whiny Ramona on the Real HW of NYC. He will probably miss the birth of your first child if there is a spinning class he "has" to take. Can you give him a pill or something?

CW

[carolyn white]

Ha! What's worse, the guy with the muted burp or the guy who leaves his raunchy tennis shoes in the kitchen to air them out? Who does that? We are about to celebrate our 30th anniversary, and you are so right. I'm sure that my husband and I have a list as long as California of things that perpetually drive us crazy and make us want to kill each other. Yet here we are. What saves a marriage? Just what you do. Walk away from the bitchy little things and stay in training for the really big contests.